


Funky Town

by Elsey



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Make Out Session, Naked Dean, hint hint wink wink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-15
Updated: 2014-06-15
Packaged: 2018-02-04 17:34:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1787320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elsey/pseuds/Elsey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean awakes feeling off, and Sam definitely notices.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Funky Town

**Author's Note:**

> So this came to mind and I'm not really sure why I wrote it. I hope you enjoy.

_It was the heat of the moment!_

“Too fuckin’ early for this shit,” Dean grumbled, swinging his hand over to the alarm clock to smash the top. What the hell? The alarm clock was further away. And rolling over was like an obstacle course. Dean must have folded the blankets weird under himself. He finally managed to hit the top of the clock and stopped himself with his hand on the button. His hand. It was… smaller. More delicate looking. No scars, no callouses, and it hurt from where his fist had pounded the clock.

“Uh. Hi,” Sam said, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. Dean cocked an eyebrow.

“The fuck is your problem?” Dean yawned, sitting up in bed and stretching. Sam was frozen, mouth slightly open. He looked away, blushing profusely. Dean felt… weird. His chest. It was heavy. And was that… hair? On his shoulders.

“Look, uh, Dean will be here… whenever,” Sam muttered, throwing a t shirt at Dean and standing, moving to the other side of the small motel. Dean caught the shirt one-handed, recognizing it as his own Zeppelin shirt he usually slept in. Why was Sam saying Dean would be back when he was right there?

“Sammy, what’s your problem?” Dean asked, standing. He immediately sat back down, face white as a sheet. He was bare chested. He was bare chested with a _chest_. Dean was slowly calculating, hand moving to touch his long, wavy blond hair. His eyes slowly moved down, looking at the breasts that rested on his ribcage and the smooth curve of his stomach. He raised his hands before himself.

“Hey, you, uh, okay?” Sam asked, moving forwards, still trying to shield his eyes.

“Do I look like I’m fucking okay? Sammy, I’m a fucking… _chick_! I mean, boobs, _yes_ , but what the _fuck_?” Dean nearly swallowed his tongue, finally hearing how high and feminine his voice was.

“Do you need me to call someone?” Sam asked cautiously, approaching Dean and offering him the shirt once more.

“Sam, it’s me!” Dean insisted.

“Me who?”

“Dean!” Sam let loose a small laugh.

“Look, my brother is a piece of shit, and he shouldn’t have ditched to leave me with you, so if you need to shower or something, it’s open,” Sam said, shaking the shirt at Dean.

“You fuckwad, it’s me!” Dean yelled, standing again. Sam moved back instantly, and Dean could tell he was trying with all his might to not ogle Dean’s… well, everything.

“Calm down. Just tell me your name.” Dean closed his eyes, blowing out a breath to try and calm himself.

“Look, man, I’m in a real funky town right now and I need you to check the front for Jim Rockford,” Dean said slowly, looking Sam directly in the eye. His brother’s mouth opened and closed, and he stood, sitting down again, then standing and looking Dean up and down, disbelief written across his face.

“Dean? No. Dean? N- no. No way. No fucking way,” Sam said, running a hand through his hair.

“Dude, what the _fuck_ is going on?” Dean asked, trying to run a hand through his usually buzz cut hair and ending up with a handful of this long shit that was full of knots. He angrily shook his hand free.

“Dean? No way. It’s not… _possible_.”

“You’re telling me. But hey. Great rack, right?” Dean asked, grinning before he saw Sam pull a bitchface. Well, at least _that_ was normal.

“Are you… really Dean?” Dean nodded, and Sam looked away as Dean’s chest also moved. He realized the nod was a little too enthusiastic. To save his brother the trouble, Dean rolled his eyes, throwing on the Zeppelin shirt, which even covered his ass it was so long on this body. Dean held his hands before himself, looking them over and marveling at how pretty they seemed.

“Hold on,” Dean said, moving away from the beds and going to the bathroom. He had to see. He couldn’t fully believe that this shit was going on until he saw it himself. Dean stopped in the mirror, mouth hanging open. _Damn_. He was hot shit. Dean moved closer to the mirror. He ran a hand down the side of his face. It was smooth, slender, and whiter than Dean’s skin had been. He had the same colour of eyes, and the same crazy pattern of freckles, but his nose and lips both looked so… girlish. Dean pulled at the crazy mess of hair atop his head, wondering why it couldn’t have just stayed the same length. Did whoever put this curse on him really need to go all out with a foot of hair? Seriously?

Dean yanked the shirt over his head, spinning around in front of the mirror and whistling lowly. Like his normal body, he wasn’t as ripped at Sam, but he was still damn fine, with what he considered average sized breaths and, if he did say so himself, quite the ass. Sam came towards the bathroom and instantly turned away, walking back to the beds.

“ _Dude_ ,” Sam groaned. Dean shrugged. “I, uh, called someone.”

“Who?” Dean asked, moving the new obstacles on his chest around and chuckling to himself like a child.

“Hello De-” a gruff voice began from the doorway, but stopped midsentence. Dean turned to see Cas standing in the doorway, opening and closing his mouth like an idiot.

“Cas? You okay, man?” Dean asked, slowly grabbing the shirt from the ground and pulling it on, Cas following the movements with his eyes.

“I, uh, yes,” Cas said, clearing his throat and stepping back. Dean eyed his warily as he brushed past. Cas shuddered and moved away when Dean brushed against him. Sam did a double take before he seemed to remember that Dean was female for the time being.

“Just spit it out, Cas,” Dean muttered through clenched teeth. Cas looked him up and down and Dean glared.

“Your soul,” Cas said, eyes wide. Sam looked from Dean to Cas. “In this form, it is so… _pure_. I can see past it. I can see… I can see you, but not as Sam describes, when you are male. I can see your female form. I can… see you. Dean, you are beautiful.” Dean blushed a deep red, then cursed this new body. Sam shifted awkwardly from foot to foot.

“So is there any way to reverse this?” Sam asked, breaking the awkward silence. Dean moved to sit down again. God, walking was weird with no junk. So was sitting. So was everything. “Cas?” Cas finally tore his eyes away from Dean long enough to glance at Sam.

“This looks to be the work of a very powerful being. Most likely an archangel,” Cas said, once again focused on Dean, who was growing uncomfortable under the constant gaze.

“Archangel?” Sam asked.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” Dean groaned, flopping back on the bed and getting a disgusted yelp from Sam, who looked away fast enough to get whiplash when Dean realized he wasn’t wearing a single undergarment. Dean sat up again, still blushing.

“What am I kidding you about, Dean?” Cas asked.

“Uh, this morning. I woke up to Heat of the Moment,” Dean replied.

“Gabriel,” Sam growled.

“You rang?” they heard, Dean jumping up at the sound. Shocking to everyone but Gabriel it seemed, Castiel thrust himself in front of Dean. He realized too late, and Dean was already pissed, pushing Cas aside to glare at the archangel.

“Change me back,” Dean demanded.

“Aw, Deanna, don’t take this personally, but, um, nope,” Gabriel said, grinning widely.

“Why not?” Sam demanded.

“Because this is fun.”

“Gabriel, we’re in the middle of an apocalypse! I don’t have time for this shit!” Dean growled. Gabriel shrugged.

“I’m not changing shit until you two work out your issues,” Gabriel said, pointing at Dean and Cas.

“What issues?” Dean asked, cocking an eyebrow. He looked over at Cas, who still couldn’t keep his eyes off of Dean. “What did you do to him?”

“Look, guys, when an angel sees a human, all they see is a soul. Unless, of course, you’re an archangel. Basically, I warped Dean’s soul, so it makes him visible to all angels, which also, by the way, cleaned up the nasty shit in there, you’re welcome. Being a woman is just a minor side effect,” Gabriel said with a shrug.

“I didn’t ask for any of this!” Dean screamed, surprised at the octave of his voice, covering his mouth with his hands. Gabriel snorted.

“But why?” Sam asked, looking from Dean to Cas.

“Oh puh- _lease_. You of all people should know, Sam. You _must_ have seen the way these two lovebirds look at each other!” Gabriel insisted.

“ _Lovebirds_?” Dean scoffed.

“You’ve been boning for Cas since hell, Dean, don’t deny it! Consider this a blessing. Look, I don’t wanna go all Disney princess here, but basically, you kiss an angel, you go back to a dick and balls. Capisce?”

“ _What_?” Dean demanded. Gabriel was gone. “That sack of absolute fucking shit! Fuck!”

“Dean, calm down,” Sam insisted, placing an absolutely massive hand on Dean’s shoulder. Dean shrugged it off to find Cas still watching him.

“The fuck is your problem?” Dean demanded, stepping up to Cas with anger written across his features. Cas opened his mouth and then closed it. In one fast, fluid motion, Cas took Dean’s face in his hands and pressed his lips to Dean’s. Dean wanted to scream. Dean wanted to thrash. Dean wanted to beat the absolute shit out of Cas and then hunt Gabriel down. Dean wanted… Dean wanted this. Dean wanted Cas’ lips to be against his own. Forever. Dean wanted Cas’ hand knotted in his hair like it was now, Cas’ hand slipping up the back of his shirt. Dean heard Sam clearing his throat, but chose to ignore it. Cas pulled Dean closer still, Dean’s hands grasping at Cas’ coat, leg rising against Cas’ thigh. Cas deepened the kiss, running his tongue over Dean’s lip, Dean exhaling loudly. He heard the motel door slam shut, but chose to ignore it. Cas ground his hips against Dean and Dean wanted to mold himself against the angel. Dean felt something warm in his stomach, rising through his body until he felt tingly. Suddenly, Cas was tilting his head towards Dean and running his hand over stubble. Dean’s hands still gripping the trench coat, but with renewed strength. Both still had their eyes closed as Dean slammed Cas back into a wall, growling low in his throat as he ran his hands down Cas’ body, fumbling with the tie and buttons. It was only when he slipped his eyes open to see what fuck he was doing that Dean realized his hands were normal. His body was normal. He was naked below the waist and most definitely not appropriate down below the belt. Dean ripped himself away from Cas, flying across the room and searching desperately for pants.

“Dean?” Cas asked, sounding worried.

“Uh, shit, guess that worked,” Dean said, a blush running across his body. He wanted to take Cas and throw him on the bed. He wanted Cas naked. He wanted Cas begging. He had wanted Cas like this since the day he met him, but Dean had been repressing these feelings ever since, throwing them into a deep, dark part of his mind that he never wanted to visit. Dean needed to stop it. Now. This was Cas. He was a male again. This needed to stop.

“It did,” Cas said, looking Dean up and down. “I can… I can still see you, Dean. As you are. Soul and vessel.” Dean nodded, not looking at the angel. Cas strode across the room, confidence leaking from him, and he took Dean’s face in his hands, pulling his head down and forcing him into a long and breathless kiss.

“No, Cas, stop,” Dean finally said, pulling away. Cas looked angry at him, and grabbed for his face again. “Cas, I said enough! Just fucking stop it! This isn’t happening! Gabriel is a douche, and this isn’t happening!”

“And why not?” Cas snapped. Dean was taken aback. For so long, Cas was in perfect control. But now? Now he looked pissed. “The world is _ending_ , Dean, and we won’t live much longer at this rate. So, tell me. Why can I not kiss the one human I desire to be with before I parish? Why can I not _live_ for the first time in my existence? Why-”

Dean cut him off, smashing his lips into Cas’ hard enough to bruise, low moans in his throat, hands roaming across Cas’ body, fingers digging into the flesh. Cas ran his hands down Dean’s arms, chest, back, _everything_.

“You’re a self-centered son of a bitch,” Dean growled.

“And you’re an arrogant prick,” Castiel said back, Dean slamming him down onto a bed. Cas was out of control. He wasn’t supposed to enjoy this, though he was. He wasn’t supposed to be able to feel this, though he was. And he most definitely should not be moaning loud enough to get a bang on the wall beside their room, but he was.

“Cas?”

“Yes, Dean,” Cas breathed.

“We’ll live long enough to pretend this never happened. I promise,” he whispered, sending shivers down Cas’ body.

It was the kind of promise that should not be made. It was the kind of promise that implied that this impromptu make out session never should have happened and would never happen again if they lived. And yet, it was the exact promise Cas needed to hear. Because he understood what Dean was saying in a way most never would.


End file.
